


No One Does Anything From A Single motive

by Eyesforfiction



Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fishing, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Wedding, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyesforfiction/pseuds/Eyesforfiction
Summary: To ponder the answer to a moral query while savouring the flavour of mashed potatoes should never be underestimated.





	No One Does Anything From A Single motive

Christopher sat in his chair next to the fireplace in his living room. The bottom edge of the newspaper brushed his lap as he focused on a story. He relished the peace of Saturday mornings. No suit today. Comfort always won out on Saturdays but never over manners or presentation. He still wore a neatly pressed shirt with a tie and always came downstairs cleanly shaven and generously splashed with aftershave. 

Sam’s voice breezed in from the doorway of the kitchen. “Tea, Christopher?”  
“Sounds lovely. Yes please, Sam. Need help?”  
“No, I’m fine. Won’t be long”

Sam and Andrew had been married, five months previously, in a simple ceremony in St Clement’s. Sam’s wish for ‘Nothing of Grandeur, Let Austerity Prevail’ was followed to the letter. Her parents, Christopher, Uncle Aubrey, Uncle Charles and a handful of close friends (Milner included) were the only guests and neither of them wanted the added burden of attendants. There was no flowing white dress which, Sam had proclaimed as unfair and unjust, only begged the question of her suitability of being in such a colour and she would not be having any of it thank you very much! They had both chosen to marry in their respective uniforms as that was who they genuinely were with no falsity or façade to be seen. In a break with tradition, Sam had asked both her father and Christopher to walk her down the aisle, one on either side, as both had been ‘fathers’ to her in different ways. The local vicar, Rev Alders, performed the ceremony late on a Wednesday afternoon and a shared tea at a cafe overlooking the water rounded off the day perfectly. Their only concession was two nights in a London hotel, overlooking the Thames, a wedding gift from Christopher. 

Andrew had spoken to his father before they had married asking him if Sam could stay with him after the wedding – at least until he could get some decent leave and buy them their own place. It was a big house for just one person to be clanging around in, that was for certain, and her company was always pleasant. Of course he had agreed quickly and without question, as Andrew knew he would. 

It was a welcomed pleasure to have company at every meal. Cooking for one was such a chore- the time taken to eat the food never really justified the time taken to cook it. He had forgotten what it felt like to have someone else pass him the salt or ask him how his day was. To ponder the answer to a moral query while savouring the flavour of mashed potatoes should never be underestimated.

What a pleasure to have a woman whom he loved living in his house. The atmosphere was different and things just seemed warmer, gentler, more quite and peaceful. To discuss the underlying theme of a mutually enjoyed novel over a fresh cup of tea brought a special kind of calm to his heart which he could never really explain.

The fish that he caught always tasted better cooked by someone else and the pleasure of the catch was always multiplied when he knew that someone would be there at home waiting to see the haul and thanking the fisherman for the bountiful harvest.

To walk into his living room and see the small black and white picture of Sam and Andrew smiling on their wedding day sitting propped next to one of him and Rosalind on theirs brought him almost to tears. The completeness of it, the knowledge that both women were wearing the same engagement ring and both would be smiling at him until the end of his days would forever bring him a kind of joyous satisfaction.

 

“Here we are” she said as the tea tray settled next to the settee.  
“You know, Christopher, I don’t think I’ve ever properly said thank you for letting me stay here.”  
“Sam, it is my absolute pleasure. Truly” and he meant every single word.


End file.
